Golden Sun, Silver Moon
by Emili
Summary: A girl has a vision. A boy has misgivings. A new age has begun. ' . . . the new world shall also die, unless the sky is surmounted, the volcano mastered, and the winter tamed.' Set after TLA.
1. Climb the Sky, Bear the Winter

**Author's Note**

Welcome to the fanfic that sprouted from my deranged mind 'cause Alex is so dang cool and there are no female main character Venus Adepts. 

Golden Sun does not, rather obviously, belong to me. If it did, I'd already be working on another sequel and it wouldn't turn out nearly as good as those wonderful people at Camelot have done. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

_**Rakka's P.O.V. **_

I come from a village of magics. Not 'slight-of-hand trick-you' magic, though it's been used in enough practical jokes. Not sparkle-sparkle 'the-fairy-godmother-gave-her-a-beautiful-ball-gown' magic, though it glitters enough. This is a magic called from within. A magic brought from the air, water, ground, fire around you. Elemental magic. 

For as long as anyone can remember, we of Vale have been the guardians of elements, ball-like gems containing the purified and collected essences of mars, Venus, Mercury, and Jupiter. In each star lay the elemental energies of an entire world. The magics of wind, water, earth, and fire all sealed away in the Sol Sanctum. 

Until now. 

We had never really thought about what our duty meant till the day Mount Aleph erupted, the quartet of energies once housed within suddenly missing. Along with the stars, two of our own were stolen; Kraden, who knew more of the Stars than even the elders, and Jenna, sole survivor in her family, or so we thought, till we found her brother numbered among the perpetrators. We had forgotten the truth behind our task, and that knowledge could have saved us all. 

They say the world will end when the elements are released again on the world. And though we sent two heroes out to reclaim our treasure, there was little doubt in my mind whether or not they would succeed. 

When the Elder received the vision of Vale's destruction, I was unsurprised. I had known for years that Vale could not survive the stealing of the Stars. For I had received my own vision. 

_ 'The world ends. The center breaks. The four converge and take on new life. So the new world shall also die, unless the sky is surmounted, the volcano mastered, and the winter tamed.'_

So, as the other left for the safety of elsewhere, I remained, climbing to the heavens as the cliffs shuddered around me. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

As I pulled myself up the last ledge, the final plateau blissfully in reach, remnants of conversation wafted through the earthen rumbles and screeching energies. 

"Wh-who are you?" A mans voice, pleasantly tenor with a hint of Northern accent and surprise. 

He was answered with a deep, powerful rumble. 

** "I am called the Wise One . . ." **

I nearly lost my grip on the rock face. The voice was the same as that which I heard in my dream. How could this man be of significance to the Wise One? And whatever was he doing here? 

"The Wise One? Vale's protector?" There was a flippant air to his voice that I didn't like. Even for an outsider, he had far too little respect for our customs. 

The Wise One ignored his question, posing one of his own. ** "You wish to have limitless power?" **

"Wish to? I just got it!" 

It now occurred to me that whoever this person was, I didn't like him. He spoke to the Wise one as though the guardian were his equal-or even his inferior. I continued climbing, eager to reach the top and watch the Wise One trump this idiot. 

** "No," ** the Wise One rebuked. ** "Your power is nearly limitless, but it has its boundaries." **

The man scoffed. "Nearly limitless? You speak in riddles. Can't you see? The power is mine!" 

** "Yes. You also have nearly endless life. And your Psynergy is . . . somewhat stronger."**

I hauled myself up the last stretch, propping and bracing my forearms against the plateau of the mountain's apex. I could now make out the man's figure, that of a tall Water Adept with long flows of ice-like hair, as he faced the stoic eye of the Wise One. His cape billowed back from him in the conflicting winds. Though both should have seen me, or at least sensed me, neither acknowledged my presence. 

"If you are trying to anger me, have a little taste of exactly how much power I have attained!" His body thrummed with energy, waves of icy Psynergy rippling around him. I barely concealed my gasp of surprise as the man succeeded in forcing the Wise One slowly back. Could he possibly hold the power he claimed? 

"Look at me!" the man crowed, his voice a mixture of elation and superiority. "My body is brimming with power!" 

The Wise One's single eye narrowed as the stony guardian advanced once more through the repulsing Psynergy with ease. The guardian's own amber energy surged around his rocky form. I nearly cheered out loud as the man was thrown to the ground, then lifted into the air, a splotching of gold eating into his cool blue aura. 

"How!?" A satisfying flavor of fear and pain tinged the anger in the man's voice. "I should be all-powerful! How can you defeat me?!?" 

Seeming almost annoyed, the Wise One flexed his Psynergy once again, slamming the man once more to the ground with the force to drive him into the rock itself. ** "You are not all-powerful, Alex. Your power has its limits, as does your life." **

_ 'Alex . . .' _The name rushed through my head, stirring up a hint of familiarity. _'But that means he's . . .'_

**_ 'Yes,' _**the Wise One's voice boomed in my head, nearly startling me out of my grip on the rock face. _ ** 'He was one of those who conspired towards the world's end in his quest for power. It is he whom you must pass judgment upon. It will be your task to deal his justice.'**_

I stared at the Wise One in amazement and disbelief. Throughout the sending, his outward appearance was focused on the man, still twitchingly trying to move his beaten body. He was telling me to . . . judge him? 

The winds swirled more violently, attesting to the terrible power convalescing around us. Something horrible was about to happen, I knew, and when it came, with it would come the destruction of Vale. 

Suddenly I realized the true conditions of my mission. Though horribly beaten, the possibility remained that this man could survive the coming energies. The Wise One could only mingle in the affairs of humans-Alex would not be killed by him alone. With the Psynergy and skills I possessed, I had the power to destroy him, and now . . . I was the only one who could. 

Alex continued to struggle against his battered body, the pain and strain evident in the quickening desperation of his voice. "This cannot be! Who is responsible for this treachery? Who has robbed me of my dream?" 

** "I, the Wise One, imbued the Mars Star with some of the power of the forming Golden Sun. It rests even now in the hands of you Isaac." **

_'Isaac . . .' _ I mused. _'Then he's still alive.' _ When he and Garet first left on their quest, my vision left me certain they would die trying to complete it. But after scouring Kraden's house and divulging his research, I wasn't so sure. If they could rise to the challenge, the truths Kraden uncovered could sway even those two from the teachings of Vale. 

"Why?" The man had rolled so much anguish and frustration into that one word that, for a moment, I found myself pitying him. My refocus was short-lived, however, as a sudden rumble chose that moment to shudder through the rocks and air around us. I scrambled onto the plateau over crumbling rocks before the cliff I had been hanging on plunged and shattered against the many spires below. 

** "The heavens and earth are changing, Alex!" ** the Wise One called over the trembling din. ** "You must flee!" **

"Wha-what?" Alex seemed to choke on the rising dust and his own disbelief. 

** "Mt. Aleph will soon be drawn into the heart of the earth! You must flee or join it forever!" **

"Flee?!" Even pain and panic could not disguise the incredulity in Alex's voice. "I can't flee! I can't even move!" 

** "Ah, yes," ** the Wise One agreed, as though this had been his point all along. ** "You now see the limits of your power. If you are swallowed by the earth, you may not survive." ** The guardian made a bobbing, almost shrug-like motion in the air, utterly ignoring the growing severity around him. ** "If you survive, perhaps we shall meet again . . ." **

As the Wise One glided off, his voice rumbled once more through my mind. _** "Choose well, child of Venus.' **_

Deal justice . . . He made it sound so simple. I stumbled up, placing my feet carefully in tune with the trembling and crumbling ground. By rough estimate I guessed I had about two minutes before my Psynergy would be useless and indiscernible from the energy building around me. 

As I approached the man's still form, I was struck by the irony of the situation. We Venus adepts hated making decisions, especially those with such a weight, yet it was always to us the others turned to make them when things turned wrong. It seemed the fate of this world would be decided by the children of Venus; Felix, in his quest to relight the beacons, Isaac, in his quest to save the world, and me . . . 

I unsheathed my knife as I knelt beside the man, forcing one thought through my mind. _Absolute power corrupts absolutely._ My brain knew if this Alex was allowed to survive, no one could remain safe against whatever power he'd managed to receive, especially if it could rival that of the Wise One. 

And yet . . . 

I whipped the blade, aiming it at the man's chest and set the palm of my free hand against the end of its carved hilt. "Alex outsider!" I shouted over the rising din, desperately trying to convince myself with ceremony. "By Venus and Sol, Vale and Weyard, I call judgment upon thee!" 

I slammed my hands down, driving the knife towards his chest with killing force . . . and stopped short, hands trembling with the blade's tip nipping gently into the man's tunic. A small splotch of red melted out from the puncture. 

I stared. Even this, he did not move. Even at this, he did not fight back . . . It was hard enough to bring myself to kill, but to kill a man unresponsive to death . . . 

A hollow laugh escaped my lips. Another quality of Venus is that we cannot find it in ourselves to kill others . . . 

I sheathed my knife, grabbing hold of the man's arm tightly. "Hey!" I shouted, trying to reach him over the roaring elements. "Hey!!" 

He slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the buffeting winds. They were shockingly blue, and for half a moment I found myself frozen by their depth. "If you," he managed dryly, though it obviously pained him to speak, "are the Angel of Death, I would like to remind my subconscious that I do not believe in such things. Go away, please." 

"Shut up," I said sharply, strengthening my grip on his arm. His eyes widened as though he suddenly realized I was more than a figment of his imagination. "I'm going to save your life, though you don't deserve it. For it, you owe me a promise!" 

Around us, a maelstrom roared, hurricane winds slapping my loose hair against my face. A note of panic rose within me as I began to lose sense of my own Psynergy against the gathering energies. Until that moment I had been certain in the accuracy of my abilities to return to safety, but much longer and . . . 

"Hurry!" I shouted desperately as the rock began to crumble around us. Alex's eyes were still frozen in indecision. Could it really be that hard to choose-death, or life with a debt? "I can't do this without your permission!" 

"You won't leave without me, then, will you?" He closed his eyes, a resigned look coming across his face, and muttered something even softer. 

"What?" I shouted, unable to hear him. 

"DO IT!" he yelled back. 

I acted instantly, grabbing Alex's hand with my left, arching my right, fingers perpendicular to the sky. Holding it straight beneath my chin, I groped for the earthen Psynergy within me. "RETREAT!" 

A familiar bubbling feeling rose in me as our two forms dissolved into a thousand pastel orbs. It took all my concentration to hold us together as the descending power battered us about. There was just so many . . . so . . . much . . . 

By default, Retreat should return a party to the last safe place the user remembers. It can be manipulated by the user with enough will, but its scope is limited. Since the last 'safe' place likely no longer existed, I had been focusing on Vale's entrance, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate as my mind was assaulted by the eruption of power now descending on Mt. Aleph. 

Retreat is also meant to be an instantaneous effort, with mere moments from activation to destination. But this time it seemed . . . confused. The moments became a blur of shapes and colors, with no room for conscious thought or action. It seemed my mind was being eaten by the surging flow around us. All I could remember was losing my grip of Alex before my world melted into a mass of bright colors and, finally, black. 


	2. Heed the Wind, Fill the River

**Author's Note**

Well, I meant for this to be out at least a month ago, but I just couldn't get myself through it. This is my 'marching band' story-which means I write most it while I'm bored and not playing during practice. I'll attempt to whip out the next chapter a little faster, since I actually know somewhat where the story's going now. 

On a bad note, I just lost both my copy of GS _and_ GS: TLA. Bugger. So if I can't find them, my accounts may not be terribly accurate until I can scrounge up the money for new games and work them up to the point I was at. Blergh. 

Oh, and as for the name of everyone's favorite Lemurian, I'll be calling him Piers, at least for now. As a Trekkie, I find it hard to associate the name "Picard" with anyone who isn't bald and European. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

**_Ivan's P.O.V._**

It felt weird, playing around. Carefree. I had nearly forgotten what it felt like to do something just for the fun of it. Oh, sure, there was work to be done . . . Vale as any of us knew it was gone, gone for good, and before long everyone would be busy rebuilding. But Isaac said we all needed a break, and I agreed. 

They all looked so happy . . . 

I leaned back against the tree where I had made my perch, savoring the way the rough bark dug into my back, a natural back massage. Carefully balancing on the thick branch, I took a moment to close my eyes, letting the filtered sunlight wash over me. _Whoever invented trees,_ I mused wistfully, _must have had this in mind. A little bit of earth, a little bit of sky . . ._

A clamoring of feet arose beneath me as the others made a mad dash for the river. "Last one in's a rotten egg!" Felix called tauntingly, running knee deep into the current of water, a huge smile spread across his face. Mine couldn't help but join in. Ever since we'd returned, Felix had, well, 'come alive' was how Sheba put it. And it was true. I had never seen him quite so happy before, ever . . . 

"No fair, Felix!" Jenna pouted, though it was obvious she really didn't mind. "You just beat us 'cause you've got the longest legs!" 

"If that's true, why are Sheba and Ivan faster than all of us?" 

"Well, THEY-!" 

Sheba dashed past me, vaulting up the limbs of my tree and hurling herself into the air like an acrobat. "CANONBAAAALL!" she declared in mid-air, curling herself into a ball and crashing into the river with a heavy sploosh. Water sprayed every which way, soaking both Jenna and Felix in seconds. I raised my hands in a half-hearted attempt to fend off the sudden spray that splashed against the tree. 

"Sheba!" I complained as she surfaced, wiping water droplets from my face with the now damp edge of my sleeve. "I don't suppose you could give a little warning before you do that . . ." 

"What's that, Ivaaaaan?" she drawled, pretending to have water in her ear and clearing it out it a twisting finger. "I didn't heaaaar you." She grinned madly. 

"By Sol," I muttered, half-joking. "You could pass for my little sister." 

"Ivan onii-chaaaaan!" she wailed obligingly, treading water against the slight current. "Nah. I'd rather be Felix's sister!" She quickly swam to where Felix still stood and leapt on his back. 

"Ack!" he cried, unbalancing and nearly falling into the river. "Hey, one little sister is enough!" 

Jenna grinned and clamped herself onto Felix's arm, passing Sheba a glance. "Oniiii-chaaaaaaaan!" they chorused, attempting to dunk him in the river as he splashed at them with his free arm. 

"Away! Away, roguish tyrants ye!" he cried theatrically, waving his arms. 

I chucked and shook my head, basking in the bright feelings they projected glowingly. There were times, I admit, that I've cursed my mind reading abilities and the mash of emotions that always surged into my mind. But to just sit here and let their happiness wash through me . . . if heaven was any more wonderful, I think I'd go mad from the force of it. 

"Come on, Garet . . ." Mia coaxed, the river washing around her ankles as she waved the fire adept towards the water. It was odd to see her without her long skirt, but something that heavy would certainly prove a problem while swimming. "The water's just fine . . ." 

"Easy for you to say," Garet muttered, cautiously dipping a toe in the current and quickly withdrawing it with a shiver. "When did you ever consider water not fine? Maybe this would be considered warm in Imil, but 'round here I call it frigid." 

Isaac shook his head with a soft laugh, arms crossed as he stood watching the two. I couldn't tell from where I sat, but I could practically feel the way smiles danced in his eyes. "The water's fine, Garet," he agreed, though I noticed he himself stood only ankle deep in the river. 

"Fire doesn't like water," Garet grumbled under his breath, barely loud enough for me to hear. 

"Jenna doesn't seem to mind," Isaac pointed out, watching as she, Sheba, and Felix splashed river water at each other in what had escalated into a full-scale water war. 

"That," Garet argued pointedly, "is Jenna." The tone of his voice suggested those three words summed up about every act the girl did. He scanned again across the wide expanse of river, cautiously wary of its lazy current. "And you are NOT getting me in there." 

"Garet . . ." Mia sighed, a patient exasperation wearing through her tone. "I can't believe that you were so excited to go out on the ocean and you won't even swim in a measly river." 

"I haven't had good luck with rivers," Garet muttered, obviously hinting to the night of nearly four years past when the Proxians first entered Sol Sanctum. At one time that reference might have cast a sad shadow across Isaac's face, but now it barely seemed to register. "Besides," Garet added, "I never had to swim in the ocean. Just ride in a nice, sturdy Lemurian boat." 

Garet glanced about once more, taking note of each person present. "Hey . . ." he said with slow realization, "speaking of Lemurians, where the heck is Piers?? Before you bug me into getting soaked, why don't you recruit him?" 

"Piers," Mia said patronizingly, shifting her weight, "is cooking our dinner." 

"What?? If Piers is getting out of this to cook, I am _so_ out of here!" He turned and began walking back towards the makeshift camp the Valeans had set up outside of Vault. 

"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this," Mia sighed, though I could have sworn I saw a mischievous glint in her eyes. She lifted her arms from her sides, fingers outstretched towards the water around her. "Deluge!" she shouted, Psynergy fizzing around her. The river obeyed her command, swelling from its banks in a wave of water that surged over the retreating Garet and dragged him back to the river. 

"M-Mia!" Garet sputtered, treading water pathetically as he attempted to clear the water from his mouth and nose. 

"Shut up, land boy," she said, rolling her eyes and dunking him. "Time for your swimming lesson." 

I tuned out of the conversation, knowing Mia would get her way from this point out. Closing my eyes, I let my mind wander, following the threads of life and consciousness that grew up around me. When Hammet first began taking me along with him as he traveled, I had discovered this as a way to pass the time. "Mind walking," I called it, though I never told anyone, leaving them to think I was daydreaming. As I first began, I could only 'travel' to the life energies and minds of those nearest to me. I quickly learned to avoid the minds of humans. If they noticed me, I found, few would hesitate to seek me out. Strange occurrences were always blamed on me, whether they were my fault or not. 

These past few months, however, I found myself able to reach out further and more easily, covering many miles where I could once managed only several feet. Today as I let my mind wander, it felt as though everything was feasting, radiating pure contentment as it soaked up the elemental energies now returning to the world. It was as though everything was a basin, once barely filled, now overflowing. The world was whole again, whole and right and happy. 

And yet . . . 

And yet there was something that lingered at the back of my contentment, hovering there like a feeling of being watched. Eve though the world was satiated once more, these past few days felt more like a dangerous beginning than a happy ending, like the calm before a storm. 

The tree suddenly shivered around me, jolting the tendril of thought that connected me to my body. I came to myself with a start, blinking my eyes back into focus as Isaac swung up the tree to join me on an outstretched limb. He was thoroughly soaked, and his mop of blonde hair hung over his eyes in wet strangles. 

I gave his a half smile, quickly burying my unease beneath it. Isaac replied with his own lopsided grin. "Hey. I've been instructed," he said in that careful way that made it hard to tell if he was joking, "to come get you and throw you in the river." 

"Oh, come on . . ." I protested half-heartedly, knowing it was a moot point. "I'm not even dressed for swimming." 

"That, Mia has told me, is no excuse." There was a humorous twinkle in his eye, though his smile was slow and unrevealing. That was one thing I had always noticed about Isaac-he never rushed into anything. It wasn't so much that his emotions were muted, but that they radiated from him instead of showing outright. 

"So she's finished torturing Garet and decided to move on to me?" 

"Yep, that's about it . . ." He leaned back into the trunk of the tree and yawned, obviously not intent on hurrying the point. A long moment passed as we sat listening to the rustling leaves and muffled shouts below us. 

"Hey, Ivan," he said finally, voice now serious as he gazed down at the others splashing and swimming. "You've been pretty pensive lately . . . What's up?" 

"I'm . . . not sure," I admitted. Leave it to Isaac to notice what not even Sheba had. Though, true enough, for one who could read emotions, I was no good at hiding them. "I guess . . . I don't believe it's over." 

"I know what you mean," Isaac agreed, almost purposely misunderstanding me. "It's hard to believe it's really over. I guess the reality hasn't really set in." 

"No, it's . . . not that . . ." I sighed, searching for a way to explain it. I hadn't meant to tell anyone - not yet. Not while they were so happy. "It's just . . . I really don't think it's over. It doesn't . . . _feel_ over." 

Isaac said nothing, but his expression drew drawn and concerned. He looked at me silently from beneath a bland face, asking me to continue. 

I paused a moment before speaking again, watching the others playing below us to be sure they weren't listening. I didn't want to worry them - not 'til I was absolutely sure. "It's like . . . Do you remember when Kraden told us about oxygen? How it's the part of the air we breathe and when you put its pure form in a room everyone feels really good?" 

An unhindered thought flowed from Isaac's mind. _'Leave it to Ivan to remember about air . . .' _ My mood lightened slightly at that, but quickly sombered as I continued. "But if you let a spark, a little bit of fire in the room, it'll consume everything in a fiery explosion?" I sighed, glancing out through the verdant canopy of leaves. "That's what it feels like; everything feeling really good, but that terrible twinge of close danger." A disgusted frown engulfed my face. " . . . That made no sense, did it? I'm probably just imagining things." 

"No, I think you're right . . ." A tinge of worry seemed to permeate from him. "I meant it when I said it's hard to believe its over. And I don't think it is. There's too much that hasn't been resolved . . . but I guess I don't have to explain that to you." 

"No," I agreed quietly. " . . . Don't tell the others. Not yet. I don't want them to worry." 

"They'll find out soon enough. But I won't say anything." His gaze turned once again to the watery antics of our friends below us, a slow smile wafting across his face. "They deserve this." 

I nodded solemnly and we sat in silence for another long moment. Finally Isaac's manner changed, a mischievous smile capturing his face and a humorous glint stealing into his eyes. "I did promise Mia I'd dunk you," he reminded me. Before I could react to what he said, he abruptly leaned forward and shoved me from my precarious perch into the waiting river. 

"Yh-yaaah!" I cried in surprise before my voice was caught up by the resulting crash of water. Flailing in the underwater current for a moment, I resurfaced. "Isaac!!" 

He grinned down at me from the tree. "I warned you." 

I started to voice a protest, but it was quickly stifled as Jenna tackled me from behind. "Tee-hee! Got you now!" 

"There is no escape . . ." Mia added in her best attempt at a sinister drawl, waggling her fingers above my head. For a moment I considered whether I could escape back to the trees, but the thought passed as I noted the gleaming smiles on their faces and the happiness radiating from them. 

"Alright, you got me," I conceded, raising my hands in a gesture of surrender. Let them-let us have a little fun . . . just for a little while . . . 

As I gave myself up to the grins and squeals and splashes of the river, a little voice berated me in the back of my mind. I ignored it. For now, at least, the world could wait. 


	3. Wake the Winter, Trust the Rose part 1

_Author Note: Bah. No, this chapter is not complete . . . Alex's view is taking far too long and annoyingly draining me of my ability to write school-related projects. I _hope_ I only have a few more pages left, but as the plot tidbit was getting far too long for my tastes, I'm posting it in mid-completion to feel like I'm doing something._

**_Rakka's P.O.V._**

It hurt to move. Pain laced my body, smothering me like a thick, numbing fog. Every inch of me felt bruised, battered, beaten as though a mountain had fallen on me. It took several minutes of disoriented half-consciousness to realize one probably had. _Vale . . . Aleph . . . the . . . Sun . . ._ The bits of information snagged themselves in the pounding, stumbling mess that was my head. A small lucid portion of my mind attributed this to backlash from my attempted Retreat from the mountain's summit and idly wondered whether I had ever made it off that forsaken peak.

I shoved myself from the ground. Pinprick stars danced about the edges of my vision, framing the blurred scene of dulled blue, green, grey that my eyes ensnared. My head swum, throbbed, as a wave of dizziness and nausea engulfed me. _Golden Sun . . . Vale!_ my mind screamed at me, and for some reason I could not remember my heart sank at this thought, impacting squarely with my already tormented stomach. It heaved at the abuse, and I was violently sick onto the cold stone and dirt.

When the heaving finally stopped I felt almost human, but an incomprehensible feeling of weakness flooded my body. I collapsed sideways from my hands and knees, barely avoiding the pool of vomit, and lay panting. Another thought nagged at my mind, something of . . . someone? Was there someone with me? Someone . . . I had said I would save? _Alex!_ The name blazed in my mind, accompanied by an emotion I in my delirious state could not decipher. All I could remember was that he had been with me and I had intended to save him.

I forced myself to my hands and knees once more, moving slowly to appease my body into cooperation as I searched for the man who had accompanied me. _He couldn't have gone far,_ I thought half-lucidly. _Or did I lose him altogether? Or did . . ._ My eyes had yet to focus properly, and my vision was yet a mass of glowing blue-green lights. Perhaps had Alex's garments and appearance not blended so easily with the phosphorescence around me I would have found him sooner; as it was, I'm certain I must have crawled past his prone body a half-dozen times before I my eyesight adapted well enough to discern him from the surrounding shapes.

Once my head had cleared and sane thoughts returned to my mind, I immediately regretted my next decision. Upon reflection now, however, I realize what I did may have been for the best, despite my reservations toward the water adept. In either case, what I did then I did on instinct, and it at the very least gave me hope for my true character.

My immediate reaction was one of dulled horror, for the figure before me seemed immobile, lifeless. I reached a groping hand for his and almost pulled away immediately, for it was cold and damp to the touch, as a newly-dead fish. A trickle of something dark stained the flesh by his lips, and in the odd, pulsating lighting he seemed empty of the colors of life. I shuddered, afraid I would be sick again, and swallowed weakly, but clamped my fingers tight against his wrist in search of a pulse.

After what seemed like a horrified eternity I felt the veins thrum, weakly, but rhythmically, and a confused sigh flowed from me. I forced myself to kneel beside him, determined to care for my charge as I had, to my memory, promised. The fact that much of my Psynergy had been wasted on my ill-fated escape attempt didn't phase me; in fact, I don't believe I even noticed as I held leaden hands outstretched over his chest. The healer aspect of my Venus nature took over, noting each inconsistency of his body, each cut, bruise, broken bone, preparing to heal each injury. As I exercised my talent my head began to throb more distinctly and I ignored it, annoyed at the lack of cooperation my body was providing me in my endeavors.

Now intent on its task my Psynergy flowed through me, incorporating itself into the patterns of curing I had long ago discovered. It was slow work, and I soon found myself forcing the energy from my body, unaware my stores were so low. My brow became slick with sweat that trickled down my face, blurring my vision, but I dared not rest from my task to wipe it away lest I be unable to bring myself to begin again. Slowly bones knit, gashes closed, bruises healed.

The pain in my head was almost unbearable as it throbbed in tune with my pounding heart, but the pain was rewarded as the man's eyes stumbled open, lids lifting slowly, squeezing shut once more, then opening in a squint. A trickle of sweat dripped from my face to splatter on Alex's shirt, staining it dull red in the flickering light. He stared at me through squinting eyes, first in incomprehension, then slowly disbelief. His mouth worked slowly, and he noted astutely, " . . . You're bleeding."

The scene swayed giddily around me. I vaguely heard what he said, but had suddenly become fascinated with the growing stain on Alex's deep-blue vest._ Staining it dull red . . . dull . . . red . . ._ I lifted a hand to my forehead, touching it gingerly. It came away slick with blood.

"Oh," I said simply, and collapsed back into blissful unconsciousness.


	4. Wake the Winter, Trust the Rose part 2

**Author's Note**  
Yup. The ending is ugly and forced, but it's done, finally. I used to like Alex, but after writing him, I'm not so sure. Next, on to Piers. If things go happily, the next chapter won't be such a pain.

Also, math muses do nothing to help with writing. Grr, Seth. Make it snow or I shall draw you sad more. 

******_Alex's P.O.V._**

I stared incredulously at the girl now splayed upon my chest. To my disgust it took me several moments to remember where I had seen her before; the brazen young woman from atop Mt. Aleph's peak. She had, apparently, been successful in saving my life, though I doubted its worth at the moment. She had, too, seemingly healed my wounds, for a reason I could not determine. Of course, she had not seemed in her right mind when I awoke, which may have attested to her actions.

I lay still for a few moments, taking the time to form a plan of action. _My first action,_ I decided immediately, _must be to remove this female from my chest._ Although my ribs had been apparently healed, they remained sore. Her weight offered no help to the situations, and I despised the idea of remaining in such a position with anyone for any amount of time. . . . And she was bleeding all over my shirt, dammit.

I shoved her off of me, though admittedly more gently than I would have were she uninjured. Although I felt no gratitude toward her for her unprecedented actions, I had pledged to her a promise, a thing I could not fulfill were she dead. Usually I would have cared little, but I had bent and broke enough promises lately that I feared the consequences should I not follow through with this.

Laying her gently across the rocky floor, I took a moment to survey my surroundings. Quartz-like formations jutted from walls, ceiling, and floor of what I quickly determined to part of Aleph's extensive myriad of caves. Although the gems were indubitably akin to Pysnergy stones, I felt certain no revitalization could be received from them. Their pulsating glow was weak, and several lay shattered across the floor, a likely result of the recent appearance of the Golden Sun.

I glanced once more to the figure laid limply at my feet and frowned. Idiot girl hadn't stopped bleeding. Dammit. I hadn't intended to actually heal her, but my options were quickly narrowing. Sighing in disgust, I knelt beside her, holding a hand lazily over her injured head. _Just enough to heal the cut,_ I decided easily, not particularly wanting her company any time in the near future. My hand waved boredly as I called upon the healing aspect of my Mercury nature, intending to knit the wound together.

Nothing happened.

A slow dread flooded me as I choked down panic, delving inside myself for the wellspring of my water Psynergy. I was almost relieved as I felt it still there, bright and strong as ever, yet I could not touch it, could not move it. Something walled it away, sealed it from my use like an impenetrable glass globe housing swirling gas and liquid. Sealed it . . .

I ripped off my gloves in a near fevered frenzy, stripping back the fabric of my shirt to reveal . . . a glowing impression, a sealing runic triangle seared painlessly into the flesh.

A half-crazed laugh bubbled up inside of me, bursting from my mouth until I nearly dissolved in it. My Psynergy was sealed! All the skills I had carefully honed, all the years of preparation and infiltration I had spent in track of my magnificent goal, the powerful Psynergy of the Golden Sun, now useless. I couldn't so much as summon a raindrop.

The obscene pointlessness of it all drowned out even the anger I expected would consume me at the predicament. Who was at fault? That rash-acting child? The 'Wise One'? Or myself, for simply being where I had? And what did it matter, now that the deed was done?

I know not how long sat there, madly contemplating the horrible irony of my fate in frantic laughter. As yet I still have no conception of time from that strange imprisonment; with my powers stifled and no view of daylight, each moment seemed to blend to the next. At some instance, however, I regained myself enough to rediscover the limp body of my apparent 'rescuer,' if that term dare be applied to one in such dubious circumstances. I was surprised in my hysterical state to find I was both intrigued and, oddly, still worried by her comatose condition. This train of thought brought me a sudden, immense relief; without my Psynergy I had no chance of escape from the cave prison, and this child was possibly my only chance of escape from slow starvation.

Heartened that I still contained a drive to live, I scanned my now cogent mind for the scraps of first-aid knowledge I still retained from my time with Mia. Mia, that ice princess with too warm a heart, not even realizing how truly ignorant she was. Wrapped up in her soft-hearted ignorance, too frozen in her lofty ideals to realize how everything was going to the ice . . . And the look on her face when she found it was I who let the Proxians into the lighthouse . . .

A furtive smile patterned my lips as I set about for a proper binding for the girl's wound. Unwilling to further ruin my own clothing for her incompetence—the shirt was already ruined from her bloody ignorance earlier, to say nothing of the fraying results of her pathetic Retreat attempt—I tore the already tattering border from her skirt for a makeshift head-piece. My senses had already determined the presence of water; my Psynergy may have been sealed, but I still retained my affinity to the element. Further speculation discovered the water came dripping from a stalactite clinging to the ceiling. It was clean, I quickly noted, though mineral-rich, and after wetting my own parched throat I dampened my new-made rag and returned to sponge drying blood from the girl's forehead.

She stirred slightly: a mere wincing at the ginger pressure against the flesh, but enough to prompt me to more care and speed at my task. I had no intention of her waking in any near moment. Although I preferred not to remain in the cave any longer than I must, I cared not to deal with another person, coherent or not, until I could determine a proper explanation for my recent behavior, both for their enlightenment and my own.

Quickly, carefully, I encircled the wound with the torn fabric band, tying it tightly to staunch the blood flow. Satisfied she would not mindlessly bleed to death, I sat back and, as an afterthought, unclasped my cape to drape it over the girl's prone body. This action I regretted soon after, not for the loss of warmth but for the uncharacteristic charity, but it seemed morally unjust to remove a gift from one who could not protest, and the cape remained.

This completed, I turned my thoughts inward to the inevitable question of 'what now'? I was still pleased that I continued to think in those terms; all my efforts thus far had been in anticipation of the past mountain's events. I had foolishly, or perhaps reputingly, given no thought to this situation; I assumed that I would either succeed or die in the attempt.

Now, however, I was faced with a much odder circumstance. The first order of business, I quickly decided, must be to escape my rocky confinement. I was not incompetent without my powers; their sealing would impede my traveling, but destinations could be achieved nonetheless. Beyond that . . .

The seal must be broken. That was imperative. Once the Psynergy was accessible again, I could continue with my plans.

Without the sight of the heavens to tell by, time passed without measure as I sat in contemplation. A plethora of possible routes had presented themselves to me, but each, regrettably, seemed to rely on the awakening of the earth-adept child. The inversion of the mountain had, upon inspection, sealed this chamber to the point that no non-adept could possibly escape. I, it seemed, now fell into that category for all outward purposes.

After what was an eternity, or perhaps mere moments, the girl finally stirred. "Ah, so she isn't dead. That's refreshing," I drawled, pleased by my tone's automatic cool sarcasm.

Her eyes opened, blinking frantically as she processed her surroundings. The cautious olive centers were at first glazed, unaware, until they focused upon me in a sickened horror. I had to laugh; her reaction was so predictable, so comical; the widening of eyes, the choking gasp, the drunken stumble backwards . . . A certain wild glint must have remained in my eyes; on later thought I doubt my usual appearance would have frightened her as I seemed to in that moment.

"Do calm down," I managed, noting the dull pallor of her face as she scrambled toward the cave wall, back cowered to it. "You'll make yourself ill again."

She swallowed forcibly, ducking her head between her knees protectively as her hands cradled about her dressed wound. Finally her gaze lifted, eyes determined behind their glaze of fear. "W-what do you want??" she demanded lucidly, the confusion of her previous awakening apparently cleared.

"I want you to Cure yourself," I replied in half exasperation, "before you pass out upon me again. I do assume you can remember how."

Her fingers brushed the makeshift bandage gingerly, questioningly, then drew away quickly as her face twisted in a wince. A vaguely desperate look flitted in her eyes. " . . . you—."

"Though considering your incompetent Retreat managed to trap us beneath solid rock, I suppose I can't expect much," I interrupted, covering a yawn theatrically. Such a hassle, getting others to do what you'd prefer to do yourself . . . but, then again, manipulating them could be such an _art_ . . .

I hid a smile as the furious glint retook her features. "It was _not_ incompetent!" she shot hotly, aiming a finger at me. "It was your fault—you took too long! I— . . ." Her voice caught in a pained cringe, hands flying to her head once more. " . . . Oh . . ."

"Hurry up and heal your addled head," I complained, accentuating the roll of my eyes with a careless hand wave. "I should expect you're not so pathetic that I have to walk you through it."

She forced a glare at me—entirely and gladly deserved—but her eyes soon squinted shut in concentration as she fought to gather the earthen energies about her cradling hands. The process seemed far more straining than I had hoped it might be, and I was annoyed to find myself staving off another wave of unwanted pity toward the girl.

Abruptly she pitched forward, vomiting between her spread knees. For a moment I feared she might have succeeded in merely injuring herself further, but soon her head rose again, eyes clear as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve and shot a murderous gaze in my direction.

"You . . . freaking bastard . . ." she gasped, shivering hands unconsciously reaching to tug my cape about her shoulders. "You self-righteous monster . . !"

I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the newly-revived sick-sweet smell. "You certainly are pleasant this evening, aren't you?" Frowning, I regarded the obnoxiously un-time-responsive ceiling of the cavern. "Or perhaps it's afternoon. Or morning . . . I seem to have lost track."

"And you—you! You could have just healed me yourself, I'll bet! You lazy selfish--" she ranted on, cutting off suddenly as she realized the origin of the fabric her hands hand clamped around. Another set of venturing fingers noted the taunt 'bandage' tied across her now unblemished forehead in silent comprehension.

"I gladly would have, if only to avoid such a tirade," I sighed, dropping the façade of annoyance, "but that was unfortunately impossible."

Tugging up my sleeves, I presented my wrists toward her, exposing the shimmering runes engraved into my skin. I spoke bitterly, slashing the words around my mouth in again-growing fury. "I don't know if it is the result of your ill-fated Psynergy or that damned 'wise' boulder, but my 'wellspring of power' is entirely cut off."

Her gaze fixed on the dancing pattern of light, silence burying her for a long moment. Something flickered in her eyes, an expression flitting on her face that I could only hope as an inkling of compassion to my situation. Readily, however, her gaze hardened, matching the humorless laugh that sprung from her throat.

"So that's it," she sighed out resignedly, one arm reaching for a crystalline handhold to pull her haphazardly to her feet. For a moment she clung to the structure, salving her balance and supporting legs shaking in exhaustion. Her voice seemed weighted by fatigue and annoyed acceptance. "You bastard."

I withheld an exasperated sigh, eyes closing for a moment in silent collection. "Yes, you've discerned that already. That does not, however, alleviate our present situation."

"You're trapped here and you only helped me so I could get you out," she continued, and although exhausted, her words managed a cutting edge. Still aiding her movement with hands clasped to the jutting crystals, she sniffed the air, moving deeper into the cavern. "Why do I even bother?"

Reading it a rhetorical question, I deigned not to answer, and instead observed her actions carefully. It had occurred to me that should she not provide a manner of escape, the both of us would likely be trapped beneath the felled mountain until death or doomsday claimed us. In such circumstances I have yet to know which would have been the sooner perpetrator.

Her nose wrinkled, noting the absent quality of the air. "Stale . . . don't know how long it'll last." She exhaled, emitting more of a snort than a sigh, and gestured to the plethora of glowing crystals. "I don't have the energy for this . . . I don't suppose any of those are active Psynergy crystals?"

I shook my head; in my lengthened speculation I had already deemed their collected quantities far below outward absorption level. "I checked, and no, unfortunate as it may be."

"And did you happen to check which direction was closest to the surface?" I said nothing in return, but at a glance she took my silence as a negative and sighed. "Right, then . . ."

Locating a small pool of collected water, she knelt slowly and awkwardly beside it, supporting her descent with a reaching hand. Clumsy fingers fumbled with the fabric about her waist, searching for some apparently encased contents. After a frustrated moment's search she seemed to find her quarry, though it was small enough that I could not see it clearly. This she set in the water before her, hands folding to a prayer-like arch.

"Grow," she whispered, and amber light fell from her hands. At first I could see no result of her efforts, but at a moments wait a tendril of leaf, dyed sea-green in the gem-light, stretched its way heavenward.

"Where is the sunlight closest?" she prodded again. More illumination glistened from her fingertips. "Where is the air freshest?"

The leaf split thrice, resolving into four distinct appendages. One, however, outgrew the rest, proudly aiming toward the darkest reach of the dim-lit cavern. The girl exhaled wearily, dropping her hands onto waiting knees. "Right, then . . . That's a start, anyway . . ."

I arched an eyebrow skeptically. This was, unsurprisingly, not the tactic I had expected her to pursue. From my observations of Venus-aligned Adepts, I had assumed their talents most closely linked with the moment of earth and rock, useful skills for those buried beneath mountains. Although her use of Retreat was characteristic of the generalization, I had hardly expected this girl might instead be a specialist in botany. How she intended to rectify our situation with such skills I had no idea; certainly this new development damped my hopes of feasible escape.

Another question from the girl broke me from my reverie. "Is this clean?" she demanded, indicating the foliage-supporting puddle at her knees. I scowled faintly, nodding in affirmation. To be reduced to such a banalities as detailing water quality . . .

She cupped her hands, bringing a mouthful to her lips. Its metallic taste induced a grimace, but she gratefully sucked down another handful. The frown deepened as she turned her gray-green eyes upon me once more.

"If you're going to be all mopey, at least make yourself useful." Her hands went to her waist once more, returning with several dozen voracious-looking seeds. These she shoved at me; I took them skeptically. "Scatter them around near the exit," she instructed, waving toward the plant-shown direction. "We'll need something to hold up the ceiling."

"There is no exit," I muttered disdainfully, unable to resist voicing the snide comment.

"There will be," she stated, dragging herself once again to her feet, then mumbling, "I hope."

Fewer crystals illuminated the far cavern, but visibility was not nonexistent. The girl was right; the air had begun to take on a stale quality; I found myself sucking more of the stale gas than I cared to admit. As she made her way painstakingly across the cave, I begrudgingly completed my assigned task, carefully sprinkling the seeds in collected puddles across the cavern floor. Her plan still remained unclear to me; just as well, I supposed. My hopes for escape were already depressingly low; I needed no specifics to further the despair.

Finally reaching the far cave wall, the girl removed one last seed from her hidden satchel, placing it in a small pool at the wall's base. "If this works," she noted, "we'll have about ten seconds to get out before the walls come down on us."

"And if it doesn't?"

She sighed. "We'll be buried alive, likely. Stand away from the walls and watch your head."

Her hands folded again, casting weary shadows across her face. Were it not for the foreboding thinness of the air, I would have wished for her to rest before attempting . . . whatever it was she was doing, but conditions forbade it.

"Grow," she whispered. "Grow, grow, grow, grow!"

All about me seeds erupted into life, shooting from the cavern floor in showers of amber light. I had to sidestep to avoid being literally skewered by the thick vines reaching to net themselves across the rocky ceiling. Roots intertwined across the ground, knotting in woody bunches like an awkward carpet. Most impressive, however, was the plant at the girl's feet. It aimed not at the ceiling, but at the cavern wall itself, plunging vine-like claws into crystalline bedrock. I stared in honest disbelief; she intended a plant to break through solid rock? It was a far cry from probable.

Sweat spilled down the girl's face, accentuating the strain of her Psynergic mantra. Probable or not, cracks had begun exuding from about the burrowing vines, the foliage drills growing with each passing second. I had even allowed myself a faint possibility of hope when the ceiling began to crumble. A shower of pebbles rained upon our heads. The larger boulders seemed momentarily contained by the awning of vine stretched across the rocks, but the plants seemed strained to withhold them.

"You—Vale girl--!" I sputtered, forcing down the second wave of unwanted panic of the day. A frantic search for her name returned the realization I did not yet know it. "The ceiling, it's--!"

She gave no reply, responding only to the shudder of the cavern with shudders of her own. "Grow grow grow grow grow grow—."

This was, quite honestly, not how I had intended to ever die. The slow suffocation may have even been preferable to skewering and crushing by cave-in, as seemed my immediate fate. "Vale girl--!"

A sweet scent brushed past my nostrils, cutting my outburst short. Fresh air. Another rumble sounded, another sharp cracking of thick rock, and—

Sunlight poured into the cavern, tumbling over the cascade of rocks barely withheld by the thick vines still crawling across their surfaces. I don't think I have ever been so elated to see the sun. The cavern, however, continued its self-destruction about us, and the girl remained fixated in her trance-like state, apparently unaware of the exit or impending cave-in.

Once again I toyed with the idea of leaving her to her fate, then annoyingly resigned to dutiful chivalry. Grabbing her—and my poor, stained cape—about the waist, I scrambled from the collapsing cavern to the sweet space beyond just as the rocks tumbled to engulf the cave behind us. Deprived of their life-giving Psynergy, the stretching tendrils of vine trembled once, then collapsed into yellowing submission.

We had emerged onto the side of the crater than had once been Vale. It stretched for what appeared to be miles, removing any trace of the flourishing town and its benefactor mountain. The girl's originally intended destination for that misguided Retreat, however, seemed nearly met; miraculously, the town's front gate remained standing, guarded by the shielding presence of Vale's enormous Psynergy crystal.

The girl, swooning in exhaustion, gasped at the rich air like a fish out of water. Feeling uncharacteristically charitable in my newfound freedom, I hefted her once more, hauling her to the still-standing crystal and the charred land around it. She gratefully collapsed upon it, circling her arms about it as its soft light enveloped her body. Duly revived, she sighed contentedly, remaining a long moment before climbing easily to her feet.

"Not 'Vale girl,'" she stated, turning her gaze toward me. It took me a moment to recall her meaning. "Rakka. Vale doesn't seem to mean much anymore."

"Ah. Miss Rakka," I noted absently. While her gaze, now grown pensive, had moved to survey the ruin of crater, mine had flitted from the Psynergy crystal to the dancing seals upon my wrists. Well, I mused, it was worth a try, if anything. Hesitantly I set my hands upon the glowing crystal's face.

It shattered.


	5. Suffer the Firestorm, Sight the Volcano

**Author's Note**

Urm. I have no excuse whatsoever for how freakishly long this chapter took. Beware: it contains a Fight Scene, and as I have no experience with Fight Scenes, it may be rather awkward. Following Piers' diatribe I shall return to praise my lovely reviewers, disgruntled as you all must be.

Onward!

_**Piers' P.O.V.**_

Of all I have encountered in my years, of all I have seen, heard, smelled, felt . . . I have enjoyed none more than these: the taming of the sea and the subtle art of cooking.

Oh, it seems odd, I'm sure, that the child of such a distinguished society would bind himself to such a menial task as the preparation of food. But when your kind is as long-lived as mine, it is not the seemed simplicity of a task that calls you, but the possible permutations of its devising. The sea, for its part, fulfills such guidelines easily; a water first kind and enduring can, in an eye-blink, revert to such savagery to tear an unwary vessel to shipwrecked fragments. The wind, the waves, the clouds: none can be trusted entirely, and never even in their full entirety can you believe what they foretell.

Likewise cooking, although mundane to the unenlightened eye, offers a tantalizing array of near limitless possibilities. A dropped or added second of heat can set the difference between burnt and undercooked. A simple pinch of ingredient could mean the distinction between culinary perfection or disaster. Simply put, cooking is both a basic and an infinitely intricate endeavor, tailored to the ambitions of the chef, sculpted to the devotion and creativity of the attempter.

Our travels have been an intriguing experience for me. Whereas in previous years I had been exposed to the customary techniques and ingredients of Lemuria, we have in the past few months experienced the culinary achievements of over a dozen societies. It has been, to say the least, an eye-opening venture.

However, despite the variety I have recently discovered, I currently find myself facing a most diverging challenge. While we had a certain abundance of food, albeit often exotic, while journeying, the numbers of those for whom I cook have grown from an average traveling party to a good-sized village. Likewise, following Vale's destruction our resources have been doubtlessly limited; despite the warm hospitality Vault's citizens have shown our displaced kinsmen, it is difficult for a village to suddenly support twice its accustomed population.

Therefore, I was making stew.

"Piers, that smells delicious." Isaac's mother hovered over the stove, taking a moment to waft steam from the boiling pot. She was positively beaming: had been beaming, in fact, since our arrival at Vale's outskirts. Isaac had confided to me that he found this action disconcerting, but I admit I can understand the reasons for her jubilation.

I took a moment to check the condition of the bread baking within the oven's interior. I was browning nicely, exuding a gingery, tantalizing scent; twenty more minutes aught to do it.

"Thank you, Dora," I replied, admittedly not as impressed with my creation as she appeared to be, "but I fear it's still missing something vital."

"Piers, if it tastes as good as it smells, believe me, no one is going to mind." She offered another dazzling smile of reassurance, swiping the unused remains of a green pepper before vanishing out the doorway in a twirl of dull skirts.

_How lucky Isaac is,_ I mused inwardly, not for the first time in those days,_ to find parents so alive once more . . ._

It was not a kind train of thought. For all my years . . . ah, I must not dwell on such things. Regret is the cruelest thing to befall my race, and it is best rarely visited. I set the memory away, filed the comment for later reference, and returned to my cooking.

The stew was simmering, and I dutifully stirred it to reseat the potatoes and bits of meat that had settled lamentingly to the bottom. A few pieces seemed far too large now that the stew was in motion; these I sought and easily broke apart with my whisk.

Lifting a ladle to my lips, I willed a cooler temperature to the captured soup and tasted a small portion. It was thick, meaty, bearing just the exact amount of sliced vegetables for its volume. It was, I must admit in all modesty, fabulous, but it still lacked a certain pungency to its flavour. I had already allotted it several liberal dashes of what aught to have been the idea spices, but it yet remained unfulfilled. And what could possibly be added now, so close to the dish's potency?

I sighed, admitting sad defeat, and set the ladle and whisk aside to observe the final sewing—

--only to have the latter snatched up by a rather familiar hand.

"What the hell," Garet demanded, hair and garment still damp from his recent river jaunt, "are you using a whisk for in making stew!"

He waved the whisk pointedly, a demanding look spread across dripping features. I suddenly received the odd impression of a sodden firecracker, tall stalk steaming futilely in an attempt to shower spark despite all dampness to the contrary. I had to stifle my amusement; luckily, I have had much practice in doing so.

"The whisk," I explained impatiently, "serves to break up the larger pieces of ingredients."

"What? You don't break up the chunks! They soak up the flavor!" Garet strode up to the simmering pot, peering into it questioningly.

"May I please have the whisk back?" I was never certain where I stood with Garet. Admittedly, he was an accomplished chef in his own right. For one so young, I consider this an impressive achievement; however, our methods differed so immensely we soon found it necessary to alternate cooking duties so as to, and I use Garet's exact wording, 'not cramp each other's style.' While I prefer cautious experimentation, Garet prefers a more extreme approach. Where I measure carefully, Garet uses handfuls and pinches. Where I memorize exact recipes, he remembers general concepts. In essence, Garet sees cooking as an art, while I view it as a science. I have yet to determine which is the more productive method.

Commandeering the ladle as well, Garet appropriated a sip of the bubbling stew and brought a testing mouthful to his lips. I found his expression as he sampled my creation quite annoying: some baffling combination of superiority, curiosity, and concentration.

"Mmm . . . Needs more salt," he declared and, to my horror, followed the statement by unscrewing the lid of a nearby salt shaker and dumping its entire contents into my creation. He sealed the brash action by recklessly stirring the purified mineral into the simmering mass. Moments later, he tasted the concoction once more and left a satisfied smile behind as he licked his lips contently. "Oh, yeah. Much better."

I fear I must have gone rather pale at his actions, for Garet sent me an incredulous frown upon turning from the pot. He waved his free hand dismissively. "Hey, Piers. It's alright. I didn't _ruin_ it, sheesh." In attempted appeasement he held out the steaming ladle toward me, offering the final mouthful of stew still contained within.

Unable to bury my distrust of the altered concoction, I attempted a wary expression as I hesitantly accepted the proffered stew. _Perhaps,_I consoled myself cautiously, _it won't be so very off . . . I can certainly attempt this recipe again on another occasion . . ._ I cast one last furtive glance at Garet as I raised the ladle to my lips, carefully took in the final mouthful . . .

. . . and, to coin a phrase often touched upon by my young friends, all hell broke loose.

It was the sudden scream that first drew my attention, cascading impressively through the solid inn walls from the direction of Vale's impromptu canvas tent suburb off Vault's western limits. Garet and I reacted immediately; regardless of near-finished cooking, any possible attack had, in the last few months, come to preclude instant priority.

Haphazardly tossing the now-empty ladle to clatter against the far counter, I snatched my Fire Brand from its careful placement against the kitchen table. In my peripheral vision I noted Garet mirroring my actions in his reach for the Levatine. Despite the relative peace of recent days, habit brought us to maintain certain precautions in our daily activities: although as of late we had forgone our armors, we could not bring ourselves to pack our now-familiar weapons out of arms' reach.

Moving in unison, Garet and I raced each other for the inn door, bolting through the town and up earthen stairs to leap in easy synchronization from the upper reaches of Vault's encircling ledge into the temporary village below. Although the sky had been clear when last I viewed it, rain was now falling in earnest, oddly muting the scene of screams and reined chaos.

Already our colleagues in conflagration were engaged in awkward battle, still sodden and startled from their recent river jaunt. The instigator of this mayhem was immediately discernible; looming above the treetops, the creature was grotesque even by our traveled standards, seeming horribly mutated in an almost pitiable, if gruesome, manner. The beast was almost reminiscent of the small bulbous rodents I had noted roaming the surrounding wilderness, although if I had not previously encountered the vermin I could never have conceived the resemblance. Garet seemed to note the similarities as well, for as we surveyed the situation he expressed like comments: "That's a Vermin! What could have made it spaz like that!"

"I do not know," I admitted freely, "but I fear there is little possibility of discerning such. We must defeat it before it can wreak more havoc on the camp."

To his credit, Garet withheld the retort plainly hiding behind his lips. Instead, he drew his weapon to a vying angle against the ground, gesturing toward the creature with a calculated tilt of his head. "Then let's hurry up and take the bastard down, eh?"

I leveled my own blade in kind, unable to restrain a lopsided grin of response. "Let's."

A moment of calculated hesitation—ah! The opening!--and we sprung forward, weapons held in mirror, dodging the well-placed Psynergy of our fellows with practiced ease. Garet howled a berserker cry as we leaped into our attack, bringing our blades to bear on the beast in simultaneous synchronity. The familiar jolt of impact resounded up the length of our swords--

--and redoubled, dashing us from the creature's hide as though we had set steel upon itself. An enraged bat of the beast's arm swept us aside to tumble, dumbfounded, among our mud-streaked comrades.

"What the hell was that!" Garet demanded, and for all my years I could not discern an answer. Even in our travels we had yet to face a creature that didn't take the faintest damage from even our simplest of weapons, and the swords Garet and I bore were of such enchanted mettle that only the material of our teammates' blades might bear against them.

A familiar feminine voice stole us from our bemusement. "You idiots," Jenna shouted from our left, sweeping familiar healing flames about our fellow warriors with a moment's concentration. Through the rain and growing evening I could barely make out a harsh gash on her arm reseal into pinked flesh. "Why do you think we're using Psynergy! Ivan nearly nicked the Masamune on that thing!"

So informed by Jenna's deserved remark, I quickly realized the sheathed location of the others' weapons and, with a mild reluctance, stowed my own in kind. Despite my original wishes to the contrary, I must admit I have come to prefer blade-work to the water miracles inherent of my race. However, when times require . . . "My apologies, Jenna," I replied congenially, already searching for another opportunity to attack the ulcerated rodent. This, I had begun to realize, was not to be the carefree battle I had originally hoped. Later the implications of this encounter would weigh heavily on me; at that moment, however, I merely slipped further into the intuitive battle mentality that had developed upon me those past months.

The creature towered above the treetops, offering an anguished howl to the tumultuous skies as it attempted to stomp closer to the fragile camp. Already the late Vale's citizens had scampered to the relative safety of Vault's earthen walls, but if we could not quell the beast shortly, both canvas and permanent villages would soon suffer. To my relief, even the Psynergy-capable of Vale had sought shelter, conceding to our admittedly superior battle prowess in protecting the populace, ready to assist in whatever healing they could offer. Fewer inexperienced fighters meant fewer bodies to protect as we worked our attack.

As I gathered up the rain surrounding me to convalesce into iced hail, I noted Ivan, perched on the beast's opposite, calling a reign of storm-accentuated plasma down on the raging beast. Despite it's usual destructive power, however, the impressive electric light-show seemed to only confuse the behemoth, temporarily blinding it instead of charring it as the Jupiter mage had doubtlessly intended. A moment later I released my flurry of frozen missiles, plummeting them against the ogreish Vermin's hind-side . . . only to watch in dismay as they crackled off, rebounding near-uselessly to litter the sodden ground.

"My Psynergy just isn't making a dent!" I caught Ivan say, his small voice barely audible against the backdrop of storm and battle.

"It appears to be a creation of Jupiter and Mercury!" I concurred in a shout, leaping sideways to avoid an out-flung paw, although how such a dual-creation had arisen from such an unimposing creature, I did not know. "Perhaps it is drawing it's power from this storm," I added, more as a comment to myself than a general exclamation.

"Yeah, well, my fire's not getting anywhere in all this rain!" Garet called back, an expression of annoyed distaste coloring his features as he watched the downpour extinguish yet another attempted flare of Mars Psynergy. "Isaac, Felix?"

"We'll take care of it!" Isaac agreed, his voice sounding from somewhere to my right. "The rest of you: draw it away from the camp!"

Already the beast had trampled dangerously close to the makeshift village, gruesomely threatening the canvas dwellings with its worrying proximity. A few more careless steps, and . . .

"That's easy enough!" Sheba chorused. Through the rain I caught a blurred glimpse of her dancing behind the monstrosity before she flung herself up its form in a burst of Jupitarian speed. "Hey, ugly!" she taunted, her voice a sing-song as she lilted across the creature's right arm, batting it with her staff to gain its attention. "Over here, you big stupid!"

"Sheba!" Felix exclaimed suddenly as the Vermin swept a grisly paw in her direction, but she vaulted easily over it, moving like an acrobat to leap down the offending arm and back to her original position. "Yeah, that's it, yah creep! Nyah, nyah, can't caaatch me, knucklehead!"

"No, Sheba, get away--" Felix shouted again, apparently seeing as I suddenly did the uncanny glow growing in the creature's eyes. I barely caught the inhuman blur of Ivan as he sped to shove Sheba away before we were all caught in the sudden explosion of storm-siphoned Psynergy pouring from the beast. The combined wind and wave threw us back and, slammed to the ground like so much batted refuse, it took me a moment to regain my full senses.

Isaac stood in the midst of the fray, having apparently avoided the worst of the Vermin's attack through a cascading shield of Psynergied rock. The reaching spikes seemed to have finally made an impression on the beast, however, for even wounds had appeared in its belly, sloshing blood, hued black in the dimmed light. Now wounded, however, the creature seemed enraged to further madness, now neglecting all we smaller annoyances in lieu of its attacker and the fragile village beyond. With a furious wave of its paw, the Vermin batted Isaac's make-shift shelter to scattered fragments; suddenly defenseless, our undeclared leader took a startled step backward as the creature advanced.

"Isaac!" a girl screamed frantically, although I could not place the speaker beneath the thunder of rain. Issuing a screech of pain and fury, the bleeding creature advanced in blind rage, reaching claws glistening in a sudden burst of lightning. Isaac shrank back, seeming about to attempt to dodge--

--and then inexplicably straightened. In actions even he could not later explain, his arms splayed toward sky and earth, seeming to call upon elements in each, a mantle of suddenly lava-like Psynergy glowing about him. Simultaneously the ground vanished beneath the creature's taloned feet, spilling away to reveal an unexplainable pit of molten earth.

Even as the monster fell toward it, however, another wonder streaked from the sky: a meteor, its rock center exuding flame even in the torrent of rain cascading around us, drove into the plummeting Vermin, cutting off its howl of pained disbelief in a blossom of flame and earth. Expression unreadably foreign, Isaac made another twist of his hands, and the earth closed in about the distinctly defeated creature, gathering to disguise the hole that had engulfed it until only an unnatural pinching of earth remained.

For a long moment, no one moved, stunned into silent frozenness by the sudden impossible finality of the battle. Even Isaac seemed shocked by his unexplainable Psynergy, and until he finally stumbled backward in what I could only guess was a wash of shock and exhaustion from his exertion that anyone regained their mobility. As he fell back to sit weakly on the muddy ground, Garet emerged from the rain-streaked darkness, stumbling toward his friend.

"Didn't want them to find out like this. . ." sounded a weary voice behind me: Ivan, still collapsed against a tree where the beast's Psynergy had so carelessly tossed him, his expression dull as he shook his head dazedly in tempo with his words. "Not so soon . . ."

Garet had strapped on a cautious smile as he helped Isaac back to his feet. "That was a flipping awesome fire pit, man. Now hurry up and give Jenna back her fire djinni so she and Mia can take care of us all."

Even before Isaac spoke, I knew the truth; from Garet's uneasy expression, despite his contrary words, I could see Garet knew it, too.

Isaac shook his head dumbly, gathering himself together as he took advantage of Garet's steadying grasp. All around the drenched battleground I could see my friends slowly dragging themselves to their feet, all eyes still focused on Isaac despite themselves.

"Can't," he said numbly, still-pounding rain spilling from his dirt-blonde locks. "I haven't got any."

**More Author's Note**

And yes. So ends the fourth chapter. I as yet still declare unyielding devotion to Actually Finishing this fanfic, however long it may take me. I really aught to get my butt in gear before the powers that be actually churn out an official GS sequel.

A great thank you to all of you who have reviewed thus far; you make my work far more enjoyable, pathetic and slow as it may sometimes be.

Draconia Silverflame: I'm sure you reviewed mainly because I forced you to read this, but thanks greatly for offering your support! I appreciate it greatly.

VampireNaomi: I'm honored that my work inspired a dream! I admit to having nightmares regarding my writing, but that some good imagining came of this gives me hope. )

Capito Celcior: Talking like Yoda isn't necessarily a bad thing . . .

Silvie-chan: Thanks for the lovely encouragement! I do hope to be able to supply.

Ten-thousand Years: That's so kind of you! Secretly I'd love to eventually publish a book, but I've got years to go before I can attain that magnitude of dream.

Corycian Muse: Heheh. Actually, as of yet I have absolutely nothing planned between Rakka and Alex. I am, however, oddly a fan of Alex/Jenna, so we'll see what finally occurs . . .

Germs: Glad to see you like it! I do hope I'll be able to manage a bit of variation in it, though, to accommodate for the different points of view I hope to detail.

Alyss: Yay! I hath pwned something. D

Kuroya: Wow. Your support has been fantastic. I'm thrilled to see you enjoyed the chapters thus far; hopefully my subsequent ones will continue to appease. Mwaha. I have special plans for Alex . . . He may have been misguided and sometimes cold-hearted, but he had good intentions. As for your offer of beta reading, I'm honored. I've never had a beta reader before, and it would be marvelous to have a sounding board for ideas.

Thank you all once again, and now that you've suffered both Piers' and my diatribes, I have a small question for you all. I intend to introduce another character, this time originating from Prox. Because I'm satisfied to let ghosts lie, it won't likely be a character referred to in the game, but would you prefer a male or female to chase after Alex's group?


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